


Robbed With A Fever

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fever, Injury, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Sickness, headache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: This is a birthday fic for the amazing @whumpdump! She’s the first person who reached out and talked to me when I made this account, and honestly she’s really, really amazing. Her writing is so good, and she’s a lovely person to talk to. I’m sorry the fic is so late! Happy Birthday, ily!





	Robbed With A Fever

How ya feelin? –Keith

Lance groaned as the light from his phone assaulted his eyes, but the grimace he pulled lightened when he read that it wasn’t his boss wanting to see if he’d mind working from home while he was down with the plague, but his boyfriend.

I’ll live. –Lance

Probably. –Lance

Keith chuckled at his phone. He’d finally convinced Lance to take a day off when his fever spiked above 102 while they were watching a movie. Keith wouldn’t lie, he’d taken advantage of Lance’s fevered state and weakness to manipulate him into both taking a sick day from work, which he’d normally never do, and to watching House of Cards, which he’d normally never watch. Keith felt only a little bad about the second part–he’d made soup, after all, he deserved something for his efforts, right?

Glad to hear it. I’ll come check on you tomorrow morning before I go to work, okay? –Keith

You don’t need to. It’s just the flu. I can handle it. –Lance

I know you can. Just humor me. –Keith

I always do. Goodnight, babe. :) –Lance

-  
-

Lance didn’t know what woke him up at first. It wasn’t until he heard the loud crashing noise a second time that he realized that there was someone in his basement. Fear prickled in his stomach, and he cursed. Every sleep expert recommended keeping your cell phone out of the bedroom, so you wouldn’t be tempted to use it at night. Keith thought that was a load of garbage, and for once, Lance was upset that he’d disagreed with him. In order to get to his phone and call the police, Lance would have to get to the kitchen. Past the staircase, which, judging by the sounds of it, someone was climbing.

Lance grabbed the knife from his top drawer (thank you, Keith), and stood from his bed. He swayed a bit as the vertigo of illness swept over him, but willed himself to stay upright and alert, and pushed through. As quietly as he could, Lance crept toward the kitchen. He rounded the corner from the hallway and squinted in the dark into the living room, so focused on what was ahead of him that he didn’t even notice the man sneaking up behind him and knocking him out with some blunt object.

When Lance came to, the first thing he noticed was just how much his head hurt. Had it been that bad when he’d gone to bed?

The second thing Lance noticed was that he was not, in fact, in his bed anymore, but upright in a chair. He tried to stand, but his hands and feet were tied to the arms and legs of the chair with duct tape. Right. The robber. He could still hear him moving around through his house, and the thought occurred to Lance that maybe, if he really, really tried, he could manage to get to his phone and call the cops.

However, a more rational part of his brain told him that was a terrible idea, and that he should count himself lucky that the assailant had only tied him up and not killed him. As the man’s footsteps got louder, Lance let his head slump to his chest again in a mock faint, pretending to be unconscious even after he thought he heard the robber leave.

Eventually, illness allowed sleep to get the upper hand on Lance’s tirade for justice, and he found himself waking up a third time to the sound of Keith knocking at his door.

“Lance?” Keith called, “Are you in there? I tried texting you, but I haven’t gotten a response.”

“Keith,” Lance replied, his voice hoarse and painful, “help.”

Lance heard his boyfriend curse under his breath as he quickly fumbled for his key and threw open the door.

“Lance!” Keith cried, eyes widening in panic. “Holy shit; what happened?” Keith rushed to Lance’s side, flipping out the pocket knife from his key chain and cutting loose the duct tape restraints.

“Someone broke in,” Lance explained. “I got up to try to call the police, but they knocked me out and tied me up.”

“Jesus. Are you okay?”

Lance flexed his hands and feet a bit, wincing as pins and needles worked their way out.

“I still feel like crap,” he admitted, slumping against Keith’s chest.

He’d been trying to put on a brave face and not make a big deal about this little bug, but fuck it; he’d been through a lot, and he was entitled to a little whining. Keith’s cool hand pressed itself to his forehead.

“You’re burning up. You feel warmer than yesterday.”

“It’s been a rough night,” Lance smirked, looking exhausted. Keith pet his hair, pulling him in close.

“I’m sure it has,” he cooed. “Okay. Here’s the plan. I’m going to call the police, then call my boss to take a personal day. Then, I’ll take you to my place, and you can rest.”

“Keith, you don’t have to–”

“Don’t fight me on it, Lance,” he argued softly. “It’s fine.”

“I can’t sleep yet, though,” Lance muttered, sounding none too happy about it. “I’ve got to make the police report, and then there’s all the insurance stuff to deal with.”

“I’ll wake you up for the police report, and insurance claims can wait until you’re feeling up to it,” Keith replied. He pressed a kiss to Lance’s temple. “Just take it easy. I’ve got you.”

Keith was startled a bit when he felt Lance start to tremble in his embrace.

“Lance?”

“It’s nothing,” Lance said shakily, with a tearful congestion that he hadn’t had before, “I’m just sort of… realizing what happened. I was scared.”

“You’re safe now,” Keith reassured, stroking Lance’s hair. His grip tightened. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
